


Take me to church

by Buttons15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: "Love the Sinner, Because he is you. Without the Sinner, what need is there for a redeemer? Without Sin, what grace has forgiveness?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYSVMgRr6pw)   
>  [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0e4Crth_Hb8)   
>  [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwtdhWltSIg)

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been one month and three days since my last confession. ”

Sixteen year old Amélie knelt on the wooden steps of the confession booth. It was dark inside, dark enough that she could barely see the silhouette of the priest sitting across her, a velvet curtain separating the two. She closed her eyes and exhaled, one long and slow breath.

“I accuse myself of the following sins,” she continued, sending a silent prayer to the Holy Spirit so that she may have the gift of true repentance. “I have committed blasphemy, in calling His name in vain. I have committed gluttony and disobedience towards my parents, and in doing so I have brought dishonor to my family.”

“Tell me what happened.”

His voice was muffled. She took a moment to appreciate the familiar scent of old wood. “There is this…boy.” Amélie paused, acutely aware of how stereotypical her problems sounded, anguished by them regardless. “He has been giving me…special attention.”

“And what is his name?”

“Gérard,” she supplied. “Gérard Lacroix. He’s older than me by a bit – he’s only just graduated.”

“And is he Christian of faith?” the priest queried.

“He is, but…” she trailed off. “Not a catholic. Protestant.” When the man said nothing, she resumed speaking. “He has asked me out on a date. I have exceeded myself, both in enjoying the food and in giving in to his affections.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“The desires of the flesh call to me,” she admitted. “I fear I might have fallen into lust. For these sins and those that I cannot remember, I humbly repent and ask for absolution, counsel and penance.”

“For those of your age, it is a common vice,” he warned. “As a penance, may you perform a dozen Holy Marys to clear your mind every time the temptation is strong, and five Our Fathers so that you will grow in the virtue of temperance. Now please make an act of contrition.”

“O god, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee,” she recited out loud without effort. “And I detest all of my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven…”

“I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father and of Son and of the Holy Spirit,” he said once she was done.

“Amen,” Amélie whispered, standing. She exited the booth and walked back to the altar so that she could reflect on her choices and pray for her atonement.

She felt much lighter when she was done.

 

* * *

 

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.”

Amélie had returned early, and even though she was a regular and never missed a single Sunday mass, she had the habit of confessing once a month. Yet she knew that a mortal sin should be repented as soon as possible, and so there she was, kneeling on the steps sooner than planned.

“I have committed a grave sin, Father.” She hesitated.

“The Lord loves you beyond your understanding,” the priest replied. “And absolution comes, but only after repentance. Taking responsibility for your mistakes is necessary, child.”

She closed her eyes. “Gérard has asked me for my hand in marriage. We have been dating for two and a half years now. I couldn’t be happier.”

“And so?” he pressed.

“And so…” she took a deep breath. “We lost ourselves in the heat of the moment. I have failed to resist the temptations of lust, and we touched one another impurely.”

Saying the words seemed to lift a weight from her chest. Sharing the guilt was a relief, and Amélie knew admitting she had done wrong was the first step towards redemption. The fact that her knees felt stiff was the only reminder of just how long it took her to make the words come out.

“Violating the holiness of the body before united under the eyes of the Lord is a grave sin indeed,” the priest chided. “Albeit lesser because you were already engaged.”

She swallowed dry. There was more to it, but she didn’t want to talk about it. For a moment she legitimately considered dropping the topic, but her faith spoke louder. “Father, I am afraid to confess something.”

“Take your time,” he replied.

She did. She thought long and hard about her next words. “After all was said and done, I’ve been having… second thoughts. It wasn’t … a pleasant experience. I’m afraid, father, that I’ve made a mistake in saying yes. But our relationship has been consummated and it wouldn’t be right to back out.”

“Your anguish is not unusual,” he reassured. The idea that other women went through her situation provided her with some comfort. _Barely._ “But to soothe your soul, your penance will be longer this time. It is, after all, a serious offense.”

She did as she was told, and then repeated it twice over. Despair – believing God would not forgive her – was also a sin, but this once, she could not keep herself from it.

 

* * *

 

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been twenty-eight days since my last confession.”

There was something soothing about rituals, Amélie thought. Something comforting about things which stayed despite how hectic life could be. “Things have been… better. Gérard has been good to me, and the marriage preparations are coming along nicely. We’ll perform the ceremony in Summer, right before I move.”

“Tell me about this moving.”

She couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m going to Lyon for college. I got accepted on the liberal arts school and I plan on takin a degree in dance. Gérard has been nothing but supportive so far…” She paused. “He’s started looking for jobs on the city so that he too may go. While he works it out, I’ll be sharing a room with two women, so that’s appropriate. I haven’t committed sinful acts again, though the temptation remains. I believe the distance will do good for my impulses.”

“It will be a great trial,” the priest conceded. “But have faith in the Lord, and you shall overcome it.”

 

* * *

 

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

Mortal sins should be repented as soon as possible, but there were other situations in which an early confession was also a good thing. Situations such as times of great distress.

“It seems… I am with child.” Distress got the better out of her then, and she burst into tears. The priest offered words of comfort, and so Amélie just let it out until she could regain her composure. “Father, it is a great gift from the Lord to be able to bear new life, yet I can’t help but wish it wasn’t so.” Her voice shook. “Gérard was very happy to hear it, despite what it means to him – he’ll have to make great effort to provide for us. And I…”

The woman took a deep breath. “I had dreamt of going to university, of becoming a great dancer, of…a great many things I’d like to do before forming a family. But it seems… the Lord has different plans for me.”

“Sometimes God gives blessings in disguise. Perhaps, one day, you’ll learn this was for the best.”

 

* * *

 

She laid on the emergency room of Zurich’s University Hospital. The attending physician, a man in his fifties, soon entered the room to take a look at her.

“Your name, ma’am?”

“Amélie,” she offered. “Amélie… Lacroix.”

“Your files tell me you’re not from here?”

“No, sir, I’m from France,” she explained. “I’m here on a… skiing trip.”

Lies were sins, but they seemed irrelevant given her situation.

“And how may I help you today, Ms. Lacroix?”

“Mrs. Lacroix,” she corrected, then hesitated. “The nature of the problem is…I’d – I’d feel more comfortable being seen by a woman.”

The doctor put his pen down. “I’m afraid there are no female physicians available right now, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Well, if you don’t mind being seen by the intern – she’ll still have to give me all the information for review, of course, but you could interact with her rather than me.”

“I… think I’d like that, yes.”

“Then give me a moment,” he replied, walking out of the room. Moments later, a young blonde walked in, hair tied in a neat bun, her white coat well pressed and pristine. She couldn’t be much older than Amélie herself.

“Greetings, Mrs. Lacroix,” the other smiled, gentle. She spoke French, too, which Amélie found a pleasant surprise, albeit it had a heavy accent. “My name is Angela Ziegler and I will tend to you tonight.”

The doctor extended a hand, and she shook it. On an impulse, she sat up straight and looked at the other in the eyes. “Are you a Christian, doctor Ziegler?”

The woman tilted her head. “I’m…not.”

Amélie couldn’t say she was surprised. It was often that way with the people of science.

“…I’m Jewish, in fact.”

_Oh._

That would do.  She closed her eyes and stood still for a moment. “Will you share a prayer with me? Not the same one, of course, you do one of yours, just… join me in a moment of reverence.”

Angela blinked. “Well…yes, I don’t see why not.”

She still hadn’t let go of the other’s hand, so she did it then, putting her own palms together. They stood silent for a couple minutes, each talking to the One above by their own hymns. Amélie was done first, and she waited until the doctor’s lips had stopped moving without sound.

“Thank you,” the blonde whispered, a slight frown crossing her features. “It had been… a long time.”

“It is never too late.” Amélie smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. “During hardships and during happy moments, it is always important to have faith.”

“So it is,” Angela replied absently, and then tuned back in. “But right now, I need to hear about you. What may I help you with?”

She spoke. She must have talked for hours, for which she felt somewhat guilty, but Ziegler didn’t seem to mind hearing.

When they were done, it was the doctor who offered to lead her into prayer once more.

 

* * *

 

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been ninety-eight days since my last confession.”

Silence. Was there even someone on the other side? Amélie hadn’t checked.

“I have done something terrible…”

 

* * *

 

Grief pushed Gérard into work. Guilt pushed Amélie to accept it. She never did become a dancer, in the end, but she was forever haunted by the could have beens. Irony would have it that his job took them back to Switzerland, of all places. She saw him very little and knew even less about the nature of his work.

She didn’t understand then, couldn’t have guessed the reasons which led her to be taken. She figured, at first, that they were usual criminals. She offered them money, knowing that Gérard would find a way to get it. Her pleas were ignored. She prayed.

After days, weeks maybe – she’d lost track of time – someone came for her. She thought then whatever negotiations the kidnappers had attempted were now done and they were bound to set her free. The alternative did cross her mind, but Amélie held on to her faith.

 _Why_ they started hurting her was beyond her comprehension, yet as they dunked her head underwater for long enough that her vision darkened, she couldn’t help but think it was fair.

As she breathed in despite knowing better, as the water went down her throat the wrong way, _burning_ , Amélie couldn’t help but think the punishment was nothing less than deserved.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t remember doing the deed itself, but she did recall kneeling by his body after, as blood pooled around her feet and soaked her clothes. And she could never forget whispering a prayer for his soul.

 

* * *

 

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It’s been over three years since my last confession. I don’t know for sure, I’ve lost count.”

“Fess up, agent.”

It wasn’t a real priest, of course, but rather a Talon operative who played the part solely for her amusement. Still, he didn’t have to make it so painfully obvious.

“Shut the fuck up,” she snapped, mood ruined.

Widowmaker stood up in rage, slamming the door on her way out.

 

* * *

 

She took a deep breath, steadied her aim and watched the crosshairs hover just above the target’s head.

_“Notre pére qui es aux cieux…”_

The sniper pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.”

Whoever they were sending now had the good sense to stay quiet while she babbled.

“I have taken the life of an innocent.” That was how every one of her confessions started lately. “I don’t know his name, I barely know his face. But when the bullet hit his skull, I felt thrilled. I felt alive, and that makes me want to kill again, because…” she exhaled. “Anything is better than feeling nothing at all.”

“The Lord forgives your sins,” the man replied. Amélie never took the time to school him on the proper ritual words and he never took the time to learn. It bothered her to an extent that there was never any penance. Never a chance of redemption.

Never proper absolution.

It was only fitting.

 

* * *

 

She hardly ever knew the name of those she killed, but when she did, she never failed to do her research. Not only because it helped in her job, but because she also liked having a story to the soul she’d reap – someone she could apologize to at night.

Sometimes it backfired. The Lord loved all his children equally, but Amélie was just a sniper, and some lives were harder to take than others. Amélie would much rather shoot a bad person than a single mother of a young child.

That she too qualified as a “bad person” did not escape her.

Her hands didn’t tremble when she took the shot, they never did, but when Ana Amari fell, what shook was her resolve. She didn’t realize she had fallen still until Sombra chirped up on the communicator.

“ _Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo…_ ” the mexican began. Amélie found no malice in her tone, no irony at all.

She picked up the hymn where the other had left off and recited it to the end.

 

* * *

 

_Good God, let me give you my life._

There was no heaven for those put an end to their own existence, but Amélie couldn’t help but wonder If that still applied even when one single death could prevent countless others. And then she scoffed at herself for even having the nerve to think of paradise.

Yet the Word was clear, and so she clung to life and waited for a chance at redemption. She hated that part of herself the most – not the ruthless killer, not the emotionless agent, but the foolish girl who still held on to hope.

 

* * *

 

 

God worked in mysterious ways, her mother used to say, back when things were much simpler. The first time she saw their angel, she knew right away who it was. In the past, she might have thought it a message from above. But that Amélie was long gone, and all Widowmaker could see was a target – some sort of sick joke, if she were to think about it.

She shot the doctor more times than she could count. In many of those, she got awfully close to the kill. Sometimes her heart was into it, sometimes it wasn’t, but she was certain their story was bound to end with death, either one or the other’s.

She never did expect they’d meet again in an office, Angela sitting across her, white coat wrinkled and stained with what looked like coffee, hair loose and wild, deep rings under her eyes.

_How the mighty have fallen._

“Will you share a prayer with me?” were the first words out of the blonde’s mouth, which quirked into a humorless smile.

“God made foolish girls, so he could have something to play with,” she mimicked the other’s expression. “I didn’t think you’d remember, doctor Ziegler.”

Angela’s hand went to something on her throat – an amulet of sorts, hanging from a pendant. She couldn’t recognize the symbol, but assumed it was religious in nature. “You made an impression.”

She scoffed and looked out the window. “I assume your superiors have been informed of our… previous meeting?”

“At this point in my career, it’s cute you think I’d have any superiors,” the doctor smirked. “And even if I did, why should they? What happens between physician and patient should stay between them.”

“Like a priest,” she mused. God, it had been so long since she confessed – a real, honest confession, not the _mission reports_ she did for Talon. The thought of how much penance she’d owe the universe actually got a grin out of her. “What now, doctor? When is my execution scheduled to, and do I get to pick my last meal?”

Angela sighed. “You’re not getting executed.”

It made her unbelievably angry. Getting captured had been a relief, and the fact that she was expected to just _keep going_ was unspeakably cruel. Not unfair, she supposed, but it still made her enraged, because a large part of her had been hoping for _freedom_ through the hands of another.

“Do your name some justice, _Mercy._ ”

The blonde didn’t seem surprised or upset at her remark, just so very tired. Amélie didn’t expect it when the other grabbed her hand across the table and squeezed.

“I’m taking care of you,” Angela whispered, making eye contact. “Join me on that prayer?”

Amélie hesitated then, truly paused to give it thought. “It has been… a long time.”

“Someone once told me it was never too late.”

 

* * *

 

“You really can keep a secret, can’t you?” she asked as Angela took notes on her vitals.

“Comes with the job,” the other replied without taking her eyes from the paper.

“I miss confessing,” Amélie admitted. “Not because I still believe in any of that… that nonsense. I don’t think there’s any redemption left for _me._ Rather, I just… I had a habit, you know? Some people smoke, some people play sports, I… confessed.”

“It is certainly better than smoking,” Angela replied. “Perhaps we could arrange it for you.”

She scoffed. “I’m done with bullshit, Ziegler. Can you really guarantee whatever ‘ _priest_ ’ your organization finds me won’t use what I say against me?”

Silence.

“Thought so.”

“As far as confidentiality goes, I can only guarantee my own,” the doctor shrugged. “But I see your point.”

“You know what, that could do. I should confess to you.”

 _That_ caught the other’s attention. “ _No._ ”

Amélie smirked.

“For starters, I’m Jewish,” Angela continued. “And my silence is _very_ different from a priest’s. It’s professional. It’s closer to what you’d have with a lawyer – would you confess to a lawyer? You shouldn’t, they are snakes. So am I. _Hiss_.”

“But suppose I _did_ start talking,” she pressed. “What could you do besides, you know, listening and not telling?”

“Do you want a shrink?” the blonde deflected. “Because I can get that for you. Actually, I’d recommend it. A psychologist would have the same secrecy oath as I do – I bet you’d like Lucio, he’s very sweet.”

“So you _would_ listen.”

“I am _not_ a shrink. This is wildly inappropriate and I would really rather not – ”

Amélie kicked her legs up the table. “I plead guilty on malice,” she began, knowing it was not at all how it should go, yet figuring Angela wouldn’t know it anyway. “I really do enjoy making you uncomfortable. I do it on purpose. Pure evil intent.”

“That’s not even how a confession is supposed to go,” the blonde snapped.

Amélie burst out laughing.

 

* * *

 

 

She watched liquid flow into her veins, her weekly dose of God-knows-what getting into her system. Whatever Overwatch shoved into her was definitely better than what Talon did, she had to give them that, because she was slowly but surely feeling better.

 _Physically_ better, that was. Morally, it was another story entirely.

The blonde walked back and forth between the bed and her desk, coming over every dozen minutes to check her blood pressure. The sessions could go on for hours on end, which she filled with talking – not confessions per se, just general babbling, from things as trivial as breakfast to things as emotionally charged as her many regrets.

Despite her initial protests, Angela was a good listener. The doctor heard more than she spoke, but there were hardly awkward silences. Amélie had trouble remembering her past, but it came to her easier as she chatted. They traded stories, timidly at first and then with increasing comfort. Angela was very reserved, and the things she shared she did with caution and were often surprises.

“Sometimes I wonder at what could have been,” She mused one day as the needle went in. “At what would the person I was think of me now. She’d be horrified.”

“Mmmh.”

“I wanted to be a dancer, you know? Ballet was my thing”

“Well, that can still happen,” Angela muttered, plugging the IV bag in. “We aren’t going to keep you forever. Soon enough, you’ll be free to do as you choose.”

The prospect was both exhilarating and terrifying. The very act of thinking about it was enough to set up a tiny panic within her. “What about you?” she asked, to change subjects.

“What about me?” the blonde tilted her head. “I don’t dance, if that’s what you mean. Stiff as a board.”

Amélie smiled, relaxing slightly. “No, I mean, what are your plans after… well, I seem to be taking up a lot of your time. Do you have any family I am stealing you from?”

“Not really, no,” Angela replied, hanging the bag on its pole. “I’m an orphan of war.”

She went silent for a moment, unsure what to say. The more cynical part of her refused to apologize, racking her brain for a teasing and scandalous remark instead.

“ – it’s all right,” the blonde spoke. “I’ve had more than enough time to come to terms with it.”

“How come you’re still single?”

_Oh the glare_

Amélie grinned. “I mean, I reckon many men would love to tie the knot with you.”

“Many men and some women,” Angela corrected acidly. “Sadly, I am married to the job. You can hardly find someone who is okay with their partner doing double forty-eight hour shifts.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing those in first place,” she pointed out.

The doctor shrugged. “Maybe when I find someone interesting enough to ditch them for.”

The sheer _arrogance_ was galling. Amélie loved it. “Aw, don’t give up just yet. Who knows what the future has in store? It’s lovely that you chose to wait for the right person –”

“ _What_.” Angela scowled. “When did I say that? I never said that. I’m not _waiting_ anyone, I’m just not –”

“Good things come for those who wait,” she continued, completely ignoring the other’s protests.

“You’re _insufferable_.”

 

* * *

 

_“Many men and some women.”_

The words stole many nights of sleep from her. Not that she hadn’t ever dwelled on the matter before. It was a question she’d never dared voice during her teenage years, for fear saying it might make it true. And then she had Gérard, so it didn’t matter. Later, once he was gone, Amélie had done more than just think about it – she’d slept with another woman, sure, more than once even.

She could recall many nights in between missions in which Sombra kept her special company. But that was then – when she had no choice but to kill, and anything else paled in comparison. That was then – she did it to relieve stress. She did it to _feel_ something. And this was now – she was, though very much unwilling, on the path to recovery, body, mind and hopefully, if she could muster, soul.

 _What’s another problem to add to the pile,_ she thought as the doctor’s hands brushed against her skin, looking for a pulse. And then she cursed herself because of all things, she also had to deal with _this._

Angela turned around to get her stethoscope from where it rested on the table, her unruly bangs falling on her eyes when she moved her head and – _whoops I sinned again._

“Eternal damnation, here I come,” she muttered bitterly.

The blonde replied with an inquisitive look. Amélie shrugged. “I’m gay. Well, bisexual,” she corrected. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, I have affections for an entire gender that I shouldn’t.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Angela frowned.

“That’s not what the book says.”

“Actually,” the doctor grinned. “If I recall correctly, there’s not a word about women liking women there. So it looks like girls get a free pass for being gay. Compensation for a life of menstrual cramps, I suppose.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “That’s right. Argue loopholes with God on the gates of heaven.”

The blonde shrugged. “Which is not really the point. _‘And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love._ ’ Corinthians, chapter thirteen verse one.”

“That’s New Testament,” Amélie pointed out. “I thought you didn’t follow those.”

“I don’t, but you do,” Angela countered. “If I can be at peace with my sexual orientation even though I don’t have that line on my books, then _how can you not?_ ”

“…point taken, I suppose.”

“I routinely bring back the _dead,_ Amélie,” the other took a deep breath. “I’ve done things that are beyond unethical – they’re nothing short of _profane_. Very much so. And if grace is within the grasp of one such as me, how can you not see it within yourself?”

She leaned back against her chair with a grin. “Maybe we’ll just go to hell together, Ziegler, have you considered that?”

“I’m tempted to tell you we do not have the entire concept of hell like you do,” Her eyes twinkled. “But you know what? Maybe we will.”

 

* * *

 

“I think that’s your last session,” Angela said, tapping her pen against the clipboard while she scanned through her notes. “From here on, you should be able to take all your medications orally.” She smirked. “Won’t be needing me anymore, I fear.”

“What, you’ll… just drop my case?”

The blonde tilted her head. “Well, my specialty is on difficult to stabilize patients. Your conditions are all very controlled. A general practitioner should be able to renew your prescriptions and do any needed readjustments. Beyond that, I think I can check up on you… every six months?”

“I, uh.” Amélie blinked. She knew that moment was bound to come eventually, but she was always one to appreciate routine… rituals. The mere perspective of change brought her anguish. “And then what?”

The doctor shrugged. “Jack will want to keep his eye on you… and I would recommend you kept close to Overwatch facilities regardless, considering Talon is scattered but still existent. But beyond that, it’s up to you really.”

She lacked words for that. Angela seemed to pick up on her distress. “I know it can be a little bit… overwhelming. Do consider seeing Lucio for therapy – that would help a lot. And it’s not like we’ll just ditch you in the streets – you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need.”

“Welcome?”

“Eh.” Angela smirked. “ _Welcome_ might be a strong word for it, true. But Overwatch will certainly… tolerate your presence indefinitely. Or for as long as they need me working for them anyway.” She thought about it for a second. “So really, pretty much forever.”

She watched the other put her papers down. Their eyes met. “Take your time, Amélie. Think about what you want to do. And don’t hesitate to come to me if you ever need to talk.”

“I thought you weren’t a shrink?”

“Not a shrink,” Angela crossed her arms over her chest. “But a friend. I’d like to be a real friend... passing your case to another physician would enable that, I think.”

The bluntness of the statement blindsided her. She blinked. “But _why?_ ”

“Well, it would piss Morrison off, for one. You’d be surprised at how much people can do out of sheer spite, and we’ve established my reptilian nature.” She grinned. “But mostly because...we go way back, don’t we? There’s got to be a reason for that – a reason we’d meet in such different points in life.”

“Not everything has meaning. Sometimes it’s just weird coincidences.”

“Not everything has meaning,” she agreed. “But anything can be given meaning, can’t it?”

She squinted. “You keep… outfaithing and outbibling me. You’re a pain.”

“I look these things up, of course.” Angela laughed. “What kind of doctor would I be if I went into the office without doing my research?”

 

* * *

 

It was sunset when she finally got around to finding the other. Angela did say she could drop by anytime and talk, so Amélie decided she’d take her word on it. Yet when she walked by the doctor’s window, she couldn’t help taking a peek in. What she saw made her stop on her tracks to watch.

She observed as Angela lit a white candle and then another before closing her eyes and whispering something inaudible. It took her a moment to catch on and realize the ritualistic nature of the act, and when she did, she made a point to look away, feeling as if she’d been intruding on something intimate.

Amélie considered leaving and returning later, but chose to knock instead. If her friend was too busy, she could just not answer. To Angela’s credit, she did take over ten minutes to open, but the French was patient enough to wait.

“Oh, Amélie,” the blonde greeted. “Do come in.”

She did. The candles were still burning. “I can come back another time, if you’re busy with your…uh.”

“Shabbat,” she offered. “Welcoming Shabbat. It’s all right.” She closed the door behind them. “I was never very… observant, if you will. But some things have grown on me with time. This is one of them. The candles, the prayers – I find them soothing. I’m sure you can relate. To what do I owe the visit?”

“I…well.” Amélie swallowed dry. “I’m not sure myself. I suppose I just miss our weekly appointments.”

“Of course.” Angela took a seat across her, a glass of wine in her hands. “I miss them, too.”

_Oh._

“You could have sought me out, you know,” she snapped, irked.

“And miss the joy of having you chase after me? Never.” The doctor winked.

“I’ve spent so much time wondering at my fatal flaw,” She mused. “It must be great being you and knowing from day one that it’s _obviously_ _hubris._ ”

Angela chuckled.  “Well I can’t be perfect _,_ can I?”

She couldn’t help her smile, or her facepalming. “I’m going downtown tomorrow morning. Care to join me?”

The blonde murmured something too quiet for her to hear and then took a sip of her drink without breaking eye contact. “Sure.”

“Well then, it’s a – ” she bit her tongue before she could finish.

“ – date.” The other completed, because she was just that unscrupulous.

“Don’t tempt me,” Amélie hissed. “I was always very bad at resisting temptation.”

“And I’ve been telling you that I’m a snake from day one. That should have told you something by itself. So, see you at seven?”

 

* * *

 

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been… far too long since my last real confession.”

It wasn’t the same as she remembered. The step in which she knelt felt rougher, the booth was not as dark as she was used to, and instead of a velvet curtain, what separated her from the man was a wooden fence. Still, it was a real priest on a real church, and that in itself was more than enough.

“I’ve done things…bad things. Many of them. Too many to list. Things which I regret. Things which I could never forgive myself for. And even though my hand was forced in most of them, I… have come to take my share of responsibility on them. To ask for absolution.”

“Tell me of those sins,” the priest prompted. The voice was raspy. Unfamiliar.

“All of them. Every single one of them.” She took a deep breath. “I killed. I lied. I lusted. I raged, I envied, I slacked. _All_ of them. I doubt there’s a single sin which hasn’t tainted me.” Amélie hesitated. “And yet…”

“And yet?”

“And yet I didn’t get my due,” she whispered. “The spite, the scorn, the punishment which was certainly due to me… I’d be lying if I said I paid enough for what I’ve done. I didn’t get what I deserved… I got what I needed instead.”

“Then the Lord has truly granted you His grace,” the man replied. Amélie could all but hear the smile in his voice. “His will works in mysterious ways. I will grant you penance so that you may repent – ten Our Fathers and ten Holy Marys for every life you’ve taken, and five for every time you’ve lusted, and two for every time you’ve coveted.”

Despite herself, she laughed. “Do you think I could pay in monthly installments?”

 

* * *

 

Angela was waiting for her on the door to the church, leaning against a wall and staring at the sky. It was unusual seeing her out of her work clothes and into something as casual as jeans. She’d gotten them pressed, too, and all things considered, ironing the clothes before going out with someone had to be one of the biggest gestures of love and passion in the adult world.

The doctor took her hand as they walked away from the temple. They stopped by a shop and got an ice cream cone each, then took a leisure stroll across the pleasantly quiet streets.

“That was surprisingly quick,” Angela said as they took a sit on a bench. She’d smudged ice cream all over her face. “I expected it’d take you longer to confess a dozen years of regrets.”

“Mmh.” She finished her own sweet and licked her fingers. “I think I’ve been forgiven,” she admitted. “Or, well, as close to it as I’ll ever get. I’m ready to start over.”

“Oh? And what makes you think so?”

There was ice cream on her nose. How it got there remained a mystery. Amélie leaned in abruptly, wiping it off with her thumb. “The little day to day blessings,” she whispered.

When their lips met, it was heaven on earth.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of people to thank on this one because boy did I nag them for information.  
> \- To [Ora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Finale/pseuds/Ora) and[ Bzarcher](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/) for schooling my uneducated ass on Judaism and dealing with my multiple, sometimes mildly offensive questions.  
> \- To [Lazy Universes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lazy_universes) for schooling my uneducated ass on Catholicism and dealing with my marginally less clueless questions.  
> \- To [Sheut](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheut) for taking the time to nitpick through my grammar mistakes.  
> \- To [Oren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orenjikitty/pseuds/orenjikitty), who I can always count on to make a painful idea _even more painful_
> 
> So, about this:
> 
> \- This story is, in a way, Sensory Input's direct antithesis. WidowMercy+Science is my playground. WidowMercy+Religion and spirituality was... a huge challenge. 
> 
> \- They aren't stories meant to be set in the same AU, but I like to amuse myself by thinking of a crazy mashup between the two.
> 
> \- Religion is always a touchy subject and though I did run this thing through actual religious people, I might still have committed inaccuracies, and so apologies in advance if I ended up saying something accidentally offensive.
> 
> \- Let's play "Spot the Bioshock Infinite Reference". There are many. Have a blast.
> 
> \- Thanks everyone for reading and giving me feedback <3


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